


rock(abye) party light

by thunderylee



Category: Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Mpreg, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2019-01-16 02:18:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12333483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Fujigaya gives Kitayama exactly what he’s asking for, and gets a lot more than he bargained for in return.





	rock(abye) party light

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. written for bigbang_je 2013..

“I think we should have sex,” Kitayama says in passing, nearly causing Fujigaya to trip over his own sparkly skates.

“What?” Fujigaya hisses, praying to God (or at least the sound technicians) that their mics are off.

“With each other,” Kitayama clarifies, devious eyes looking up at Fujigaya from under his bangs, which are damp with sweat because _they’re in the middle of a concert_. “Think about it.”

Fujigaya blinks and Kitayama’s gone, leaving Fujigaya disoriented somewhere underneath the stage with the rest of the crew. He supposes he should be grateful that Kitayama didn’t approach him _on_ stage—the two of them even looking at each other is already enough to drive the fangirls insane. Actually talking with him, secretly even, may send them into cardiac arrest.

Yet this is exactly the type of shit they write about on the Internet. Fujigaya wrinkles his nose as he remembers one Miyata told them about, informing Fujigaya that he’s usually on the bottom no matter with whom, and he sets his jaw as he takes his place with the others, determined to get through the rest of this show without thinking about that.

“I’m not bottoming,” he greets Kitayama later, far enough away from prying ears, though the fact that he’s willingly whispering conspiratorially to Kitayama in the corner is enough to have Tamamori glancing over.

Kitayama stares at him for two seconds too long. “If that’s the only issue you have, then fine.”

“Fine.”

Nothing else is said for the rest of the tour. It’s such a long time, yet it passes by all too fast like always, and Fujigaya can’t decide whether he’s grateful for that or not as he nearly jumps out of his own skin every time he sees Kitayama. Kitayama, whom he’s known for over a decade, whom he’s worked with in all kinds of unfavorable situations and whom he’s seen in all of his unflattering glory, except that there’s something different about him now. It takes Fujigaya until the very last show to figure out what it is, and when he does he almost trips over his skates and falls flat on his face.

Kitayama is _shining_. Not just because he’s sweating, though that has Fujigaya’s heart racing faster too, but because he’s smiling, excited, and most of all attracted to Fujigaya. He’d have to be, right? To make a proposition like that. You don’t just approach your coworkers/sort-of friends for sex if you’re not attracted to them. Fujigaya finds himself wondering how long Kitayama has thought about it, which leads to _how_ he’s thought about it; knowing Kitayama, his thinking was more physical than mental. Fujigaya wonders how often Kitayama breathed out his name while he was ‘thinking’ about it.

“If you’re going to do that, go into the bathroom,” Yokoo grumbles from the next bed, and Fujigaya freezes as he realizes he’d been making questionable noises in his musing.

“I’m not,” he insists, though his body is inclined to follow Yokoo’s direction. “I’m too exhausted for that anyway.”

If it were five years ago, Yokoo would probably ask him what’s going on and make him talk about it, but Yokoo at the end of a tour doesn’t give much of a fuck about anything. Fujigaya supposes that this works to his advantage, because Yokoo would very much not approve of what he was thinking about, what he’d already agreed to.

But what Yokoo doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Except that Kitayama has yet to make any indication that he wanted to act upon his proposition, let alone that he had even made one. Fujigaya starts to wonder if he had imagined the entire exchange as they wrap up the tour and get their fall schedules. Fujigaya has a drama, of course, and by this point he’s no longer surprised to see Kitayama’s name right after his on the cast list.

“Looks like this is an annual thing,” Tamamori jokes, and Fujigaya catches Kitayama matching his eyeroll from the other side of the room. “Too bad. I want to act with Gaya again.”

“That might be too much for the fangirls to handle,” Fujigaya says with a wink, and Tamamori smirks back while Kitayama huffs. “Don’t be jealous, Mitsu. It looks like you even get the girl this time.”

Kitayama’s face plainly says that the girl is the absolute last thing he wants, though Fujigaya reads on to learn that the plot is much more involved than that. Kitayama knocks up Fujigaya’s university-age sister, who is already sick with a heart condition, and there’s a lot of angst over whether to terminate the pregnancy along with multiple gratuitous fighting scenes between Fujigaya and Kitayama.

“This is kind of heavy for a drama,” he mutters to himself.

“No heavier than zombie love,” Kitayama says pointedly, and Fujigaya scoffs. “Besides, they’ve been leaning in that direction lately.”

Fujigaya just nods and pockets the script for later. He’ll have to channel a lot of rage for this character, which should be easy enough. As the big brother, his main goal is to protect his sister, whom he’s basically already lost to her illness. It will be a challenge, but he believes he can do it. It’ll actually be comforting to have Kitayama on set with him, if just for a familiar presence.

Not that he tells Kitayama any of this. It’s bad enough that he feels anything toward Kitayama beyond regular camaraderie, even if it’s just familiarity. If Fujigaya’s being honest with himself, though, it doesn’t stop there. He’s had more than enough time to think about Kitayama’s offer, more vividly than he would have cared to, and now it’s just annoying to wait for Kitayama to decide when to act upon it. He feels like a stupid teenage girl with how often he checks his phone, getting his hopes up each time it lights up just to learn that it’s someone else.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” he says out loud to himself one week into filming after a particularly rough fighting sequence that ended with Fujigaya shoving Kitayama against a wall very, very hard. Fujigaya had had to use all of his willpower to fight back the urge to fuck him into it, right there in front of the entire cast and crew, and it was almost worse when the director complimented his ‘true passion’ after the scene.

He’d been about to go to bed, undressed and face washed and everything, but he just throws on some jeans and prays to God (or the paparazzi) that no one recognizes him as he packs a bag and heads out into the night. Though they’d probably be more interested in where he’s going than what he looks like; luckily, Kitayama’s building is easy to find with just an address, and Kitayama buzzes him up right away after a quick “it’s me.”

“Took you long enough,” is all Kitayama says as he more or less pulls Fujigaya right through the door and into his mouth. It’s so fast that Fujigaya can’t stop it, not that he really wants to after nearly a month of wondering. Kitayama kisses just as intensely as he does everything else, sending Fujigaya’s mind spinning with the first flick of his tongue, by which point Fujigaya has grabbed onto his shoulders and pulled him closer.

Kitayama’s hands are all over Fujigaya, fingers digging into his arms and back and down to his ass, which has Fujigaya groaning as he remembers that he also has hands and he should use them. Kitayama’s muscles flex under his touch, and the small moan that tickles his tongue has him squeezing the fabric of Kitayama’s clothing like that alone will make it go away.

“Shouldn’t we talk about this?” Fujigaya asks when he has a chance to breathe, though breathing clearly takes precedence over any words that try to come out.

Kitayama cringes as he catches his own breath. “It’s not your first time, is it?”

“What? No.” Fujigaya makes a face. “I’m twenty-six years old.”

Kitayama shrugs and flops down onto his bed, looking entirely too inviting as he stretches out on his back and looks at Fujigaya expectantly. “Well? I’m not going to fuck myself.”

A low growl forms in Fujigaya’s throat, and he notices how Kitayama’s eyes darken when it surfaces. “Get your lube.”

It’s rougher than he usually speaks in bed, but Kitayama just smirks and reaches over to his desk. He has to turn slightly to do it, making his ass stick out, and Fujigaya must be obviously staring at it because the halfway rolled-up tube bounces right off of his head. “I’d tell you to take a fucking picture, but there are enough of those out there.”

Fujigaya narrows his eyes as he catches the tube and leans one knee onto Kitayama’s bed, pausing when the other man rolls onto his stomach instead of his back. “Damn, you want it like this?”

“Now I do,” Kitayama answers, arching like a cat, and wild horses couldn’t stop Fujigaya from crawling up behind him, draping himself over Kitayama’s back and rocking his hips right against that ass, cock hardening with each sharp grind. “Mm, Taisuke, hurry up. Want you.”

“Shit,” Fujigaya gasps, dropping the lube to the bed as his fingers twist in Kitayama’s shirt in an effort to pull it off. “What even brought this on, anyway?”

“If you want to talk about feelings, give me something to feel,” Kitayama snaps back, making Fujigaya’s hips snap in a particularly rough grind that isn’t entirely voluntary. “Yes, like that. More of that.”

It’s evident that the most work Kitayama plans on doing is holding himself up on his elbows and knees, so Fujigaya doesn’t bother touching him anywhere other than the path he takes down to Kitayama’s pants. They’re easy-access sweats that are even easier to shove off, Kitayama helpfully lifting his knees to kick them off along with his underwear, leaving him completely bare and exposed to Fujigaya’s eyes.

If it were anyone else, he’d probably take his time running his hands all over their body and maybe mouthing down their spine, feeling their skin tremble beneath his touch, but clearly Kitayama is disinterested in foreplay other than what’s necessary. Fujigaya sheds his own clothes in seconds, then pops the cap on the lube and squirts some right on the cleft of Kitayama’s ass, letting it dribble down a bit before running his fingers up and down, coating them entirely.

Kitayama jerks and moans when Fujigaya makes contact with his rim, teasing him into pushing back with a whine. Fujigaya doesn’t mind how that sounds at all, swirling a fingertip around the muscle before pushing one in, reveling in the way Kitayama arches at the initial penetration.

“Okay?” Fujigaya asks, because meaningless tryst or not he still has to check, and Kitayama nods hard enough to send his hair flying into his face. “Tell me if it’s too much, alright?”

“I appreciate the consideration, but I’m not one of your girlfriends,” Kitayama grumbles, and Fujigaya frowns as he jabs in a second finger, much rougher than the first. “Oh, just like that. Come on, Taisuke, want to feel it deeper.”

The words go straight to Fujigaya’s cock and he bites back his own words that would undoubtedly not be appreciated, instead sliding his cock along the crack of Kitayama’s ass to lube it up. That has Kitayama groaning again, rocking back hard enough for Fujigaya to gasp at the stimulation, and the third finger goes in easier than it should, Kitayama loosened and more than ready for him.

“Fuck me,” Kitayama whimpers as Fujigaya curls his fingers, touching something inside Kitayama that has him trembling and tightening around them. “Please fuck me, Taisuke. Give it to me hard.”

For a brief second, Fujigaya wonders how long Kitayama’s been wanting this, maybe even yearning for it. But then his cock is in his hand, nice and slick, and he can’t think about anything other than feeding it to Kitayama’s ass, groaning when the head breaches Kitayama’s rim and sucks him in.

“Oh yeah,” Kitayama groans, and Fujigaya hopes he never stops talking, his filthy words welcome now that Fujigaya’s inside him. “More. Want to feel you, all of you. Come on, Taisuke.”

Fujigaya thinks about going even more slowly just to make Kitayama keep begging, but he can’t even begin to hold back as he bottoms out and feels Kitayama’s muscles all around him, massaging his cock in the most intimate fashion. He starts to ask if he can move, then figures Kitayama will just bite his head off again and rolls his hips, though it’s light enough that he could stop if Kitayama shows any sign of pain.

All Kitayama does is arch more, though, stretching his arms out in front of him to claw at his sheets in what might rank up there as one of the hottest things Fujigaya’s ever seen. His back looks so nice curved up like that, his shoulder blades working as he braces himself with each of Fujigaya’s thrusts, which grow rougher as Kitayama’s body squeezes him over and over.

“Mitsu,” Fujigaya breathes, his hands firm on Kitayama’s hips as he kneels behind him, pounding into him. “Oh, you feel so good.”

Kitayama grunts noncommittally, pushing back so forcefully that Fujigaya hits him deeper, harder, both of them crying out from the intensity that rises with each thrust. Fujigaya’s fingertips prickle from the pressure, his impending release that gets closer and closer, and a moan tears through him as Kitayama peels one of his hands away from the sheets and wraps it around his cock.

“Taisuke, Taisuke, Taisuke,” Kitayama groans, and Fujigaya does not mind hearing his name chanted like that one bit, fucking Kitayama even harder to hear more of it. “Oh, just like that. I’m gonna come.”

Fujigaya can feel it before Kitayama lets out his strangled moan of release, his body tightening around Fujigaya so much that Fujigaya chokes on his breath as he struggles to keep going. Kitayama falls flat on his face, seemingly unconcerned with how his body is still bouncing on the mattress, and Fujigaya finally gives in to his urge to fall forward and wrap his arms around Kitayama’s warm, pliable torso, burying his face into the back of Kitayama’s neck as he thrusts out his own orgasm.

“Oh my god, get off of me,” Kitayama mutters, squirming until he can scoot out from underneath Fujigaya. “Cuddling is not part of this arrangement.”

“So cold,” Fujigaya scoffs, mostly teasing as he stretches out next to Kitayama and grins at the way his entire body tingles. “You’re not going to make me go home, are you?”

“You bet your ass I am,” Kitayama says, grumbling even more as he gets up and smacks the body part in question, making Fujigaya yelp. “Be gone when I get back.”

The door to the bathroom closes along with Fujigaya’s eyes. If Kitayama wants him to leave, he’ll have to carry him home himself.

*

If ‘cool way to handle the morning after a one night stand’ was a Busaiku sketch, Kitayama would rank at the very bottom. Not only does Fujigaya have to wake him up after snoozing through his alarm three times, he has to prod him through what should be routine morning activities and ends up not having time to go home and change before their group meeting.

“How do you even function on your own?” Fujigaya grumbles as he unceremoniously dumps Kitayama into the hard plastic chair, only feeling a little guilty when the smaller man winces.

“This is what you get for staying over,” Kitayama tells him calmly. “You should have gone home.”

Nikaido looks like he’s overly interested in this conversation, but then their manager shows up and Kitayama sits up ramrod straight like he hadn’t just been leaning on Fujigaya for support forty-five seconds ago. It’s a scheduling meeting, and Fujigaya tries not to groan when he learns they’ll be filming the PV for his and Kitayama’s drama this weekend in addition to filming the actual drama.

Fujigaya isn’t sure what he expected after spending the night with Kitayama, but he doesn’t feel weird about it at all and nothing really changes. In fact, the atmosphere between them is considerably less thick, like the only thing separating them before had been the unresolved tension that finally got resolved. Fujigaya finds himself messing around with Kitayama like he does the others, seeing that stupid grin on Kitayama’s face directed toward him for once, and it’s comfortable.

“You and Hiromitsu have been amiable lately,” Yokoo comments as they hang out between shots, hamming it up for the making-of cameras.

“You think so?” Fujigaya replies with a casual shrug.

“You don’t act like his entire existence is an inconvenience to your life anymore,” Yokoo clarifies. “It’s nice.”

“If I have to be stuck with him, I may as well make the best out of it, right?” Fujigaya asks, flashing a smile for effect, and Yokoo just nods.

Across the room, Kitayama’s curled up against the wall, well into his third of infinite catnaps of the day. He’s almost cute, in that adorable puppy or child kind of way. That analogy has Fujigaya grimacing considering what they did together, though Yokoo’s laughter distracts him before his train of thought gets too disturbing.

“That’s more like it,” Yokoo teases, pointing at the tip of Fujigaya’s nose where it’s scrunched up, and Fujigaya pretends to bite at his finger, figuring there’s a camera somewhere.

*

By the time the first snowfall graces Fujigaya’s shoes, he’s completely forgotten about it. Well, that’s not entirely true—he knows it happened, but he doesn’t remember the details. Kitayama joins the long line of senpai (and sometimes kouhai) he’s hooked up with over the years, written off as a good time with absolutely no regret.

The difference between Kitayama and the others is that Fujigaya has to see him all the damn time. Even after their drama finished filming, there was another single, this time with a Christmas theme. Fujigaya’s always felt more sentimental around the holidays, if just for romantic reasons, so his closeness with the other members this time around wasn’t all for show. It’s the most he can do, anyway, given his job. Being an unobtainable idol doesn’t exactly give him a chance for romance any time of the year.

It’s Christmas Day when Kitayama strolls right into his bedroom like he lives there, but Fujigaya just raises an eyebrow at the unannounced visit. He’d just been lying on his bed, reading a magazine and enjoying the few hours he had to himself before they had to be at work. Today they have two performances and an interview, which Kitayama looks prepared for judging by the ridiculous knitted sweater he’s wearing with Santa Claus and reindeer on it, but his face is set enough that Fujigaya doesn’t dare tease him about it.

“I need to tell you something,” Kitayama says firmly, closing Fujigaya’s door behind him and taking a seat on the mattress. Fujigaya notices that he moves rather gingerly, like he’s being extra careful. “You’re not going to believe me, but at least you can’t say I never told you.”

“Shit, you don’t have an STD, do you?” Fujigaya asks, eyes wide.

“You would assume that first, wouldn’t you,” Kitayama deadpans, then sighs. “No. In fact, it was during our yearly testing that this came up, and…well, I’ll let you see for yourself.”

Fujigaya just nods, very aware of Johnny’s drug and disease testing requirements. He always puts his off as long as he can, because it’s not that comfortable of a procedure. It’s a relief to know he doesn’t have to race out and get it done, though.

He takes the folded-up paper from Kitayama and feels those eyes on him stronger than ever as he opens it. Whatever this says, Kitayama is really apprehensive about it. The top part is all of Kitayama’s statistics and hormone levels, which would mean nothing to Fujigaya if they weren’t accompanied by ‘low’, ‘normal’, and ‘high’ indicators. There are a few bars that rate as ‘high’, but Fujigaya doesn’t recognize the hormone names.

Then he reads down to the ‘comments’ section, where one word stands out at him in a doctor’s chicken scratches: _Pregnant_.

He blinks, looks up at Kitayama, and swallows hard when he sees Kitayama’s stone serious expression. “Are you fucking with me?”

“Does it look like I’m fucking with you?”

Fujigaya stares at the word on the paper, but it doesn’t change. “How?” is all that comes out.

“I don’t know,” Kitayama says, bringing his hands to his face. “They said something about a hormonal imbalance creating an egg—I kind of zoned it out, honestly. I haven’t felt well lately, so it makes sense.”

Fujigaya watches him speak, recognizing a reaction he hasn’t seen from Kitayama in a long time. “Are you scared?”

“Fucking terrified,” Kitayama says, taking a quick breath before he starts shaking, and Fujigaya casts the paper aside to sit up and pull Kitayama over to him. It feels strange at first, but then familiar and Kitayama melts into his arms easier than he’d expected, letting out a little whine that has Fujigaya realizing exactly how vulnerable he is right now.

“Shh, hey, it’s okay,” he’s whispering soothingly, or at least what he hopes is soothing as Kitayama calms down from the impromptu embrace. “It’ll be okay.”

“You’re oddly optimistic,” Kitayama mutters, but he doesn’t try to escape the closeness. “Look, I wanted you to know, but I don’t expect anything from you—”

“Oh, shut up,” Fujigaya cuts him off. “It’s mine, right? I take responsibility for my actions, even if it means going through this with you.”

“What exactly do you think we’ll be ‘going through’, Taisuke?” Kitayama asks in a voice that Fujigaya can’t read. “I’m not terminating it.”

Fujigaya freezes. “You’re not?”

“No.” Kitayama shifts away from Fujigaya, and Fujigaya lets him. “Doing that drama really made me think, you know? Life is precious. Besides, this may be the only way I can have one. I don’t care if it means my career is over or if I’ll be humiliated in the media. My career humiliates me enough anyway.”

“That’s the truth,” Fujigaya says, still amazed at Kitayama’s drastic choice. “Have you really thought this through, though?”

“I have.” Kitayama points at the paper. “That’s dated two weeks ago.”

“Oh.” Fujigaya sucks his bottom lip between his teeth; all he feels is guilt for Kitayama spending all of that time alone with his thoughts. “Have you told your mom?”

That was the right thing to ask, because Kitayama’s face lights up. “Yeah. She’s happy. She said I can move back in with her if the old man fires me. She didn’t think she’d ever be a grandmother.”

“That’s great.” Fujigaya smiles too, as weird as it feels in this situation. “If you want to keep it, then…well, I guess it’s okay.”

Kitayama laughs. “No offense, but you don’t really have any say in it. You may have put it there, but that’s the extent of your involvement.”

“Oh.” Fujigaya nods, hearing the words Kitayama _hadn’t_ said loud and clear. “Then, if you need money for anything…”

“Thank you,” Kitayama says, nodding as he stands up just as carefully as he’d sat down, and Fujigaya wonders how much extra weight that ugly sweater is hiding. “I’m going to tell the rest of the group tonight, so try to look surprised.”

“I don’t think that will be difficult,” Fujigaya says honestly, staring after Kitayama as the latter lets himself out. He imagines Kitayama making small talk with his mother on the way and shakes his head at the incredulity of it all.

_Kitayama_ is _pregnant_. With _Fujigaya’s_ baby.

The thought never crosses Fujigaya’s mind that it may not be his; Kitayama doesn’t sleep around that much anymore. Not to mention they’ve been practically attached at the hip for the past four months, so whoever it was would have basically had to have sex with Fujigaya too. He would kick himself for not using protection, though to his knowledge there hasn’t been a documented case of male pregnancy before, which gives him no reason to bother wrapping it with someone he knows is clean.

The biological explanations are much farther down on Fujigaya’s list of concerns, though. He’d automatically thought that Kitayama would get an abortion, but then Kitayama had strongly declared that he wouldn’t and Fujigaya _felt_ something tug at him deep inside his heart. Something brave and protective, far beyond the emotion he had portrayed as the older brother in their drama. Something paternal.

That something is what lets the cat (or kitten, as it were) out of the bag before Kitayama even has a chance to bring it up. They’ve barely sat down at the small yakiniku place after their Christmas performances when the waitress places a glass of beer in front of Kitayama and Fujigaya jumps across the table to snatch it away, nearly knocking it over in the process.

“You can’t have alcohol,” Fujigaya hisses at him, rage soaring through his veins at the possibility of Kitayama doing something so stupid.

“I know that,” Kitayama says calmly. “I was going to send it back. I didn’t ask for it.”

“Um,” Senga speaks up from one end of the table. “Why can’t Kitamitsu drink?”

“And since when are _you_ his keeper?” Nikaido adds, giving Fujigaya a confused look.

Kitayama just glares at Fujigaya, looking a cross between disappointed and embarrassed, and finally sighs. “I have an announcement to make.”

All things considered, they take the news pretty well. Nobody causes a scene by screaming in horror, but there aren’t any cheers either. Miyata makes a joke about life emulating fanfiction that falls very flat, but then Tamamori saves him by comparing it to their drama. It’s actually rather uncomfortable to sit through, and that’s just from Fujigaya’s point of view. He can only imagine how Kitayama feels.

“Anyway,” Kitayama concludes, “I’m really sorry for what this might do to the group, but I want to keep it.”

There’s a collective gasp from the table, and Fujigaya doesn’t feel so bad anymore now that he’s not the only one who didn’t expect that choice. “Is it safe?” Senga asks carefully, looking like his only concern is for Kitayama’s health.

“They don’t know—this has never happened before,” Kitayama answers, and now Fujigaya sees a different reason for his fear. “My doctor is actually thrilled that I’m going through with it so I can be her lab rat for scientific research. But it’s because of that that they’re not charging me for anything, so it works out.”

Yokoo looks like he has something to say about Kitayama being a lab rat, and Fujigaya honestly does too, but neither one of them speaks their minds. “Congratulations,” Yokoo finally says. “We’ll take care of Kisumai in your absence.”

“Can I have your solo lines?” Nikaido asks, and someone kicks him under the table.

“I still have to tell the old man,” Kitayama says, though he looks considerably more relieved now that the other members know. “I want to stay in the group, but I won’t be able to work most of next year.”

“I’ll go with you,” Tamamori offers, and Kitayama turns to blink at him. “To tell Johnny-san, I mean. For moral support.”

“That’s nice of you,” Kitayama says with a smile. “I’d like that a lot. Thank you.”

“Wait,” Fujigaya says without thinking. “I’ll go. It’s my place as—”

He cuts himself off abruptly, noticing six pairs of eyes on him, including Kitayama’s amused ones. “Your place as what, Taisuke?” Kitayama asks, almost challengingly.

“As the other main frontman,” Fujigaya backpedals, earning a snort from Tamamori. “I’m going.”

“Fine,” Kitayama agrees, and Tamamori throws his hands up and goes back to grilling the meat. He’s probably going to be pissed at Fujigaya for a while for being shunned like that, but he’ll get over it. Tamamori can’t hold a grudge for that long anyway, and it’s much better than the alternative.

The seven of them eat and drink with scattered chatter until Kitayama sits back in his chair and grabs at his stomach. “Are you okay?” Fujigaya rushes to ask, almost burning himself on the grill to lean across the table again. “Are you going to be sick?”

Kitayama shakes his head. “I’m past that stage, thank God. I think it just…moved.”

“Taisuke,” Yokoo says gently, and Fujigaya looks over to find those knowing eyes on him. But then Tamamori squeals, his anger at Fujigaya long gone once he places his hand on Kitayama’s abdomen, discreetly so that they really don’t make a scene. Making a scene is the last thing on Fujigaya’s mind, though, as he squashes the urge to punch Tamamori in the face for feeling his kid move before he did.

Fujigaya feels lightheaded all of the sudden, barely acknowledging a comment from Miyata about looking a little pale as he tries to focus on eating and not on what he’d just thought to himself. He’d known since he’d read the word on Kitayama’s lab work that the baby was his, but it just hit him right now that he’s going to be a father. That is, if Kitayama lets him.

He watches Kitayama glow as Tamamori grins from whatever he’s feeling and can’t stop himself from staking his claim. “It’s mine.”

Tamamori’s face falls, but Kitayama looks indifferent.

“What, seriously?” Nikaido exclaims, entirely too loud as usual. “Now I know this is a joke. Tackey’s around here somewhere with a camera, right? There’s no way that you two—”

“ _Shh_ ,” hiss four people, while Kitayama just shakes his head.

“What the fuck is going on, Taisuke?” Yokoo demands, and Fujigaya cowers a little under his stare.

“It was his fault,” Fujigaya answers on impulse.

“Because blaming me really makes you look good right now,” Kitayama says sarcastically.

“It was your idea!” Fujigaya declares as loud as he dares. “You’re the one who wanted to do it!”

“You’re the one who insisted on doing it _that way_ ,” Kitayama adds, and Fujigaya can almost see Tamamori’s gradual progression of trauma as he processes those words. “How dare you push all of the blame onto me. I didn’t bend myself over and get pregnant. Would you still behave this way if I were a girl? Shame on you.”

Fujigaya blinks a few times, his mouth gaping open out of incredulity. The only thing he wants to say is in regards to Kitayama pushing him out of his—and subsequently the baby’s—life, but that is not an argument he wants to have in front of the rest of the group.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, and Kitayama twitches as he returns to his meat. “If it’s okay, I’d like to feel it move, too.”

“We’ll see,” Kitayama says noncommittally, and Tamamori looks smug as Fujigaya feels like the scum on the bottom of the ocean.

*

Countdown is Kitayama’s last performance for a whole year, during which Kisumai will go on hiatus while the other six members promote individual activities. Johnny swore up and down that he would reinstate them—with as popular as they are, why wouldn’t he?—but Fujigaya didn’t buy it, grumbling as they left the president’s office about photoshopping out Kitayama’s baby weight (they may as well, he argues, since they photoshop everything else) and how he really only needs a couple months off.

“Taisuke, calm down,” Kitayama finally stops him, grabbing his arm before they reach the elevator. “You’re stressing me out and it’s not good for the baby.”

“Aren’t you mad?” Fujigaya asks, amazed that Kitayama had just accepted the sentence without any strong emotions.

“My priorities are a little different than yours,” Kitayama says in that even tone that makes Fujigaya feel even more anxious. “I’m grateful for all of the time off, and to still have a job when I come back. My doctor had also been worried about any dieting or vigorous activity I would have to do to hide it, because that might keep it from developing properly.”

Fujigaya looks down at Kitayama’s belly, which is bundled up so much that he could be having triplets. “I want it to develop properly.”

“And I don’t have to go right back to work after having it,” Kitayama goes on, then cringes. “If I even have it. There’s a high percentage it won’t make it to term since, you know, I don’t have a uterus.”

“Haven’t they implanted a fertilized egg into a man’s abdomen before?” Fujigaya asks. “I vaguely remember a news story from when I was young…”

“That was a movie,” Kitayama tells him. “I told you, this has never happened before. I’m a miracle of science.”

“Are you going to be okay with that, though?” Fujigaya asks. “All of this build up for nothing?”

“Of course I won’t be,” Kitayama growls, and Fujigaya nearly jumps back from the forceful tone that Kitayama hasn’t used with him this entire time. “They’re already pumping me full of female hormones that make me want to cry at those fucking iPad commercials—you think I’ll be able to handle losing it? The less time I spend with a camera up my nose, the better, because as much as I love my fans, this is for me.”

Fujigaya just stares at him. “Sorry.”

“You should be,” Kitayama says. “Most of all, I’m happy to get away from you.”

“Mean,” Fujigaya gasps.

“Thank you for coming with me today,” Kitayama says mechanically. “See you in a year.”

He walks away and Fujigaya just stares at him, feeling like he’s starring in the most fucked up drama on television where running after Kitayama will only make things worse. Instead he stands there like an idiot until the elevator disappears, taking with it his unborn child that he won’t get to see form and grow, just because it’s inside Kitayama.

_I wouldn’t act like this with a girl, because she wouldn’t cut me out like I didn’t matter at all_ , Fujigaya types on his phone later, but doesn’t send.

*

They should really have expected it, but it still comes as a surprise when Fujigaya’s approached with a single offer around Valentine’s Day. History has proven that nothing good can come from a group member going solo, even temporarily, so while Fujigaya’s first instinct is to turn it down, he doesn’t really have a choice. If anything, he reasons with himself, their fans will redirect their anger away from Kitayama (who they claim had abandoned them). He should really be sharing that burden, anyway.

It’s a short schedule—recording, PV filming, promotions. No more than Yamada had done for his single. Fujigaya gets to be involved in the song selection, at least, which gives him something to do other than sit around and brood. Not working with Kisumai means not working at all, at least until spring dramas are announced. Rumor has it he’ll have another one, which should coincide with his single release. Keeping busy.

The song to get released is a run-of-the-mill drama theme, but Fujigaya likes it. It’s upbeat and fun to sing, which means it will be fun to perform. The first coupling song is a typical Fujigaya Taisuke sex kitten song, with sensual dance beats and filthy lyrics, but the other one is a slow ballad that no one would expect from him, which is mostly why he picked it.

The ballad is called Hikari and it’s a giant metaphor for a girl who lights up his world. It’s a cutesy love song that is wholly carried by the melody, but Fujigaya really likes it. This single encompasses his versatility, or something, though he feels especially lonely recording all by himself. He can’t rap over his own vocals, after all.

“Everyone hates me,” Fujigaya whines to Yokoo after the announcement is made and his manager forbade him from going onto the Internet to read the fan reactions. “Right now they’re putting my face up on the dartboard next to Jin and Yamapi.”

“It’s a good diversion tactic,” Yokoo says gently, and Fujigaya feels smug that he had already figured that out. “You can handle it more than Hiromitsu can. He doesn’t have an Internet ban.”

“How is he?” Fujigaya asks carefully. “I mean, I know I could ask him myself, but…”

“He’s doing okay, considering,” Yokoo answers. “His body isn’t built for housing a baby, obviously, so his abs are bruising like mad. Doc has him on bedrest until his hormone injections set the embryo, whatever that means. Not like he can go anywhere anyway, being on an unexplained hiatus and all.”

“Poor guy,” Fujigaya says, remembering how real Kitayama’s fear had been on Christmas Day. “I wish there was something I could do, or that he’d let me do.”

“That’s really nice of you,” Yokoo says, looking impressed at the admission. “If you really feel that way, you should call him. I’m sure he could use the company, at any rate.”

Fujigaya fully intends to call him, or at least send him a mail, but then his drama role is decided and he doesn’t have time to breathe, let alone deal with Kitayama. He feels like an asshole, but Kitayama’s the one who doesn’t want him around and with his newly packed schedule Fujigaya just doesn’t have the energy to fight it.

The drama gets high ratings, so not everyone hates him, which makes him feel a lot better about everything. He performs a medley of the main single and both coupling songs on all of the music shows, and his manager tells him that the favorite amongst the fans is actually Hikari. He should sing it as his solo on the next Kisumai tour, they suggest. It surprises Fujigaya as much as anyone, but he resolves to do it. Whatever the fans want that he can give them, he will.

Every time he hears news like this, or he’s on a high from performing, he wants to share it with the other members. He could mail them all, but it’s not the same. He still hangs out with Yokoo whenever he gets a free night, but the others are pretty scarce. Tamamori and Miyata have a spring drama as well, Nikaido’s in a stage play, and Senga had decided to use the time off to study for university entrance exams and go back to school.

One night Fujigaya gets a mail from Kitayama, which just reads _saw you on tv. your songs are weird and your hair looks dumb_ , and Fujigaya laughs himself to sleep.

*

Of all the people to sideswipe Fujigaya in the hallway at the first sign of sakura blooming, it’s Akanishi Jin. Fujigaya likes Jin, always has, and the feeling is mutual judging by the way Jin is grinning at him.

“So I hear you knocked up Kitayama,” he greets Fujigaya, voice low enough to be undetected. “I had always thought you’d follow in my footsteps, but not like this.”

Fujigaya just rolls his eyes, remembering his senpai’s inappropriate humor, and pulls him into an abandoned practice room. “I hope the good news is traveling through discretionary channels?”

“The most discretionary of all,” Jin replies with a wink. “Pillow talk.”

Fujigaya blinks until he remembers that Jin’s married now. “Meisa-san?”

“Who else did you think your baby mama would run to?” Jin asks with a laugh. “She swears nothing ever happened between them, but I think she’s full of it. All she does is make fun of him, though, so I’m confident she’s not interested anymore.”

A small fire burns under Fujigaya’s ass at the way Jin’s wife is treating Kitayama. “Ask her not to be mean to him, please,” he says as nicely as he can. “He’s already going through enough.”

“Oh, you’re _serious_ ,” Jin says with a gasp that’s mostly real. “He keeps telling Meisa that you want nothing to do with the kid, but that’s not true, is it?”

Fujigaya folds his arms and sets his jaw, decidedly ignoring the question. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Jin flashes a grin. “Working. Gotta keep up with my old lady.”

“You don’t even begin to compare,” Fujigaya teases.

Jin shrugs. “You’re probably right. Come with me—I want to show you something.”

He doesn’t give Fujigaya much of a choice, dragging him by the elbow through the hallways on a very familiar route. There were days when he may as well have been a part of this group with how often he was in their room, like an underclassman hanging out with the senpai between classes.

The room’s inhabitants have aged a bit, but nothing worth airbrushing out. “Taipei!” Taguchi exclaims, using his age-old pun on Fujigaya’s nickname that nobody thinks is funny but him, but all Fujigaya can see is the little person bouncing on Kame’s lap.

“My daughter, Theia,” Jin introduces, and the toddler blows Fujigaya a spit bubble. “That means ‘hello’.”

“Hello, Theia-chan,” Fujigaya says, his voice softer than he intended as he kneels down to look up at big brown eyes. “She’s gorgeous, just like her mother.”

Jin rolls his eyes, but Theia reaches down to grab one of Fujigaya’s necklaces and he’s even more enamored than before.

“Wow, you’ve really grown up,” Kame says, and Fujigaya finally sees his pleasant face behind Theia’s pigtails.

“I’m not that much younger than you, senpai,” Fujigaya informs him with a bit of a chuckle.

“Kitayama-kun is older than me and still a child,” Kame points out, and Fujigaya can’t argue with that. “About him, he’s okay, right? Nobody will give me any information about why your group is suddenly on a hiatus.”

“He’s fine,” Fujigaya answers smoothly. “He has some personal issues to work out on his own, and we’re waiting for him.”

It’s not technically a lie, which is probably the only reason Kame buys it. Either that or it hits too close to home, because KAT-TUN _hadn’t_ waited. The situations were completely different anyway, but Fujigaya doesn’t miss how Kame glances at Jin before asking, “Your business all taken care of?”

“Yeah,” Jin answers. “Thanks for watching her.”

“Anytime,” Kame replies. “She’s getting so big. It feels like just a few months ago I was still holding up her head.”

“She thinks she can walk now,” Jin announces proudly. “Put her down and let’s see how far she gets.”

Kame plops Theia down on her feet, which aren’t nearly as steady as she seems to think they are, but she gets a few good steps in before she sits right down and scrunches up her face adorably.

“She looks just like you when she’s frustrated,” Ueda comments, and Jin shoves at him playfully.

Theia stares at Fujigaya, who scoots back and holds out his arms. “Come to niichan?”

She tries, but she keeps tipping over, and eventually she just gives up and crawls right up into Fujigaya’s lap, moving faster than he expects. Her hands are smooshing his face and grabbing at his necklaces, but he’s grinning and happier than he’s been in a long while. He doesn’t have many opportunities to be around kids, so this is a real treat for him.

“Taipi!” Koki says upon entering the room, flopping right down onto the floor and poking Fujigaya and Theia simultaneously. “Are you joining our group while Kisumai is on hiatus?”

“How would we even pronounce that?” Nakamaru speaks up from behind his book.

“You tell me, university graduate,” Koki replies, sticking out his tongue.

“The F can be silent,” Kame suggests with a smirk.

“The F is _never_ silent,” Fujigaya informs them, with an unintended squeal of emphasis when Theia basically punches him in the throat. “ _Ow_ , Theia-chan! You must have picked that up from Mommy.”

That has Koki snorting as he ruffles Fujigaya’s hair like a dog and gets to his feet. “Nice to see you again, brat. To what do we owe the honor?”

“Life lessons,” says Jin cryptically, and Fujigaya’s glad that no one pays that any attention as he looks at Theia much differently now. “Do you want a ride home, Taipi? I told Meisa I’d cook tonight.”

“I always knew you’d make a good housewife,” Koki teases him, and they fist-pound before Jin saves Fujigaya from anymore toddler abuse. “See you around?”

“Definitely,” Jin says, his smile bright, and the others give him a nod-up as he hoists Theia up with one arm and waits for Fujigaya stand up.

Fujigaya says goodbye to the current members of KAT-TUN and follows Jin out into the crisp spring air, shuffling his feet a little. “I want it,” he says, and Jin doesn’t say anything until Theia’s carefully strapped into her carseat and they’re on the freeway.

“When Meisa found out she was pregnant, we weren’t even dating,” Jin starts, like he’s about to tell an elaborate story, and Fujigaya hangs on every word. “You know how things happen, especially between friends—well, I guess you would.”

Fujigaya frowns, wondering if he and Kitayama were ever really friends, but Jin goes on before he can get too involved in that thought.

“She’s the last person anyone expected to start a family. I mean, you’ve worked with her, right? She was adamant about being independent and disinterested in settling down. Suddenly she had a kid on the way and didn’t know what to do. She was so mad at me that it still amazes me that I wake up to her face every morning.”

“What did you do?” Fujigaya asks, more invested than he should be.

“I didn’t give up,” Jin answers fondly. “She would tell me to leave her alone, but I wouldn’t listen. I would bring her her favorite takeout dishes so that she wouldn’t kick me out of her apartment. Her then-roommate, Maki, was still friends with Kame, so I heard third-party that she cried all night and was thinking about terminating the pregnancy.”

“You two got married pretty fast, though,” Fujigaya recalls. “She wasn’t that far along, right?”

“This all happened in the span of a week,” Jin tells him. “Time seems to stand still when life-altering things happen, doesn’t it?”

Fujigaya scoffs. “Is that why the past three months have felt like an eternity?”

“Honestly, I want to kick your ass,” Jin says bluntly, and Fujigaya turns to face him so fast that he almost gets whiplash. “He may be a man, but he’s still having your baby and even if he’s kicking and screaming for you to go away, you should be there.”

“He doesn’t want me there,” Fujigaya grumbles. “He made that very clear. I am not to be involved.”

“I will pull over this SUV and punch you in front of my daughter.” Jin makes a smooth turn of the steering wheel, but his eyes are hard. “What did I _just_ finish saying?”

It’s then that Fujigaya realizes they’re going in the opposite direction of his house. “Senpai, I live the other way—”

“I know,” Jin cuts him off, and instantly Fujigaya knows where they’re going.

“I’m telling you, it’s not the same,” Fujigaya says as adamantly as he can without raising his voice. “Kitayama doesn’t want to be with me. We can’t even legally get married. So there’s no point in pushing it.”

“Funny, I remember saying the same thing to Kame, except that ‘legally’ was replaced by ‘there’s no way she would marry me’.”

Fujigaya doesn’t say anything until they pull up in front of a building he’s only seen once. “I can just take the train home from here, you know. I have filming in the morning.”

“Do what you will.” Jin unlocks the doors and glances at him expectantly. “At least I can tell Meisa I tried everything in my power short of shoving you through the door, but only because I can’t leave Theia alone in the car.”

“Meisa-san is on your side now?” Fujigaya asks incredulously.

Jin laughs. “I’m on _her_ side.”

The sun is starting to set as Jin drives away with a sarcastic half-wave, and Fujigaya reluctantly drags his eyes up to Kitayama’s building. He knows Kitayama will be home—he’s not allowed to be out. Too many questions would be asked if he were recognized, especially with how big he would be now. Almost seven months, Fujigaya adds up in his head. He should be as round as he is tall.

Fujigaya sighs and approaches the call box, figuring he may as well say hi while he’s here. When Kitayama tells him to fuck off, then he can rest assured that _he_ tried.

“It’s me,” he says, and the only response he gets is the buzzing of the gate.

Surprised, Fujigaya jogs up the steps and finds Kitayama’s door slightly ajar. “Mitsu?”

“Just let yourself in,” a dejected voice calls back. “I’m not supposed to let anyone see me, even my neighbors.”

Fujigaya shrugs and walks through the door, slipping off his shoes and promptly tripping over them when he sees Kitayama leaning against the wall. He’s certainly had better days, though Fujigaya supposes he doesn’t have to look good for anyone now that he’s basically on house arrest. His hair has gotten long, long enough to be mistaken for a girl, and there’s practically another layer of skin to his face and arms. Most importantly, he seems to have swallowed a beach ball.

It’s the beach ball that has Fujigaya’s attention the most, his eyes practically boring holes into it as he remembers Jin’s daughter crawling all over him and punching him in the throat.

“Must you stare?” Kitayama asks bitterly, but Fujigaya doesn’t avert his gaze. “I’m pregnant. You don’t have to look at me like I’m a fucking exhibit at the zoo.”

“So everything’s okay?” Fujigaya replies, his words coming out slightly frantic. “It got this big, so everything’s okay?!”

The creases in Kitayama’s face relax, his eyes softening at the question. “Actually, yeah. The doctors and research scientists are all surprised. Turns out nobody expected me to get this far, but this little shit is resilient.”

“Don’t call it a little shit,” Fujigaya mutters, only halfway kidding.

“Her,” Kitayama corrects, and Fujigaya’s heart swells. “It’s a girl.”

“A girl,” Fujigaya repeats, seeing little Akanishi Theia in his mind again, only with Fujigaya’s eyes and Kitayama’s nose. “Mitsu, I—”

“Oh my god, you’re crying,” Kitayama interrupts, looking as shocked as Fujigaya feels when he reaches up to find that, sure enough, his eyes are wet. “I’m the one on so many hormones that I can’t get it up, yet you’re the one crying in my genkan. Why?”

“Because I want to be a father!” Fujigaya yells, loud enough to probably carry into the hall and maybe across the street. The words continue to ring in his ears even afterward, when Kitayama’s staring at him like he’s never seen him before and for some reason he can’t catch his breath.

“Taisuke,” Kitayama says slowly, and Fujigaya holds up one hand, halting him before he can push Fujigaya away again. “I thought you didn’t want to—”

“You never gave me a choice,” Fujigaya hisses, using all of his willpower not to give in to the rage that’s threatening to boil over, because the last thing he wants to do is upset Kitayama in his condition. “You just decided on your own to do this by yourself without even considering the possibility that I’d want to be a part of it. I _do_. I should have been here this whole time taking care of you. So what if you don’t love me? We can’t get married anyway. But I’ll be damned if I let you keep me from the one beautiful thing I’ve created in my lifetime without a fight.”

Kitayama looks like he’s having just as much trouble breathing as Fujigaya, which alarms Fujigaya enough to step closer. One step leads to two, which leads to three, and the next thing he knows he’s got Kitayama by the arms, which are much more fleshy than before, and Fujigaya finds that he likes the way it feels under his fingers just as much as defined muscles.

He waits for Kitayama to say something, anything. Fujigaya himself has said his piece. If Kitayama makes him leave, he won’t go. Kitayama’s in no position to force anyone anywhere anyway. It can’t be very comfortable living alone like this, and Kitayama’s lazy by default. He should jump at the chance to let Fujigaya do everything for him, or at least everything he can do within the limits of his ability.

Fujigaya’s thoughts are interrupted not by Kitayama’s words, but by his actions. Slowly he reaches up to coil his fingers around Fujigaya’s wrist, gently tugging the hand away from his own arm and down to his protruding abdomen. Fujigaya’s palm makes contact just in time to feel a sharp bump, which has his eyebrows lifting to his hairline.

“Is that…?” he asks, and Kitayama nods as the fetus kicks again. “Wow! She could win the World Cup the minute she’s born.”

“I doubt that very much,” Kitayama says, the depth of his laugh vibrating Fujigaya’s fingers. “But I wouldn’t mind if she played soccer when she’s big enough.”

Fujigaya brings up his other hand and gets kicks from both sides, frowning when he notices Kitayama making an uncomfortable face. “Does this hurt?”

“A little,” Kitayama admits, but grabs for both of Fujigaya’s wrists as the latter moves to pull them away. “Don’t. She’s already gone this long not knowing you.”

“Does that mean…” Fujigaya trails off, rubbing the overactive limbs poking out from under Kitayama’s shirt in an attempt to calm down the baby—his _daughter_. “You want her to know me?”

“Taisuke,” Kitayama breathes out, looking like he’s about to burst into tears, but he flings his arms around Fujigaya’s shoulders before he gives in, pressing his face into Fujigaya’s collarbone. “Don’t make me regret this.”

Even though Kitayama’s hair is gross, Fujigaya threads his fingers through it, feeling how Kitayama relaxes against him. “Thank you. I’ll take good care of you both, I promise.”

Kitayama snorts. “You have no idea what you’re saying.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Fujigaya says, and Kitayama seems to accept that by the way he melts into Fujigaya’s embrace,. It’s much like when Fujigaya had first told him about the baby, except this time there’s a beach ball in between them. “First order of business is washing your hair.”

Kitayama just laughs and lets Fujigaya spoil him with absolutely no protest, which Fujigaya has a feeling is only the beginning. He’s not too worried about it, though; as long as Kitayama gives him a cute baby girl for him to lose his heart to, he’ll give him whatever he wants.

*

Fujigaya’s family takes it much better than he’d thought they would. His mother breathes a sigh of relief when it’s Kitayama and not some strange girl, his brothers make disgusting comments about where the baby will come out, and his father takes him golfing. It turns out his mother already knew that Kitayama was pregnant, because Nikaido’s mother has just as big of a mouth as her son does and all of the Kisumai moms knew less than an hour after she had explained to Nikaido how the stork supports same-sex families too.

Fujigaya visits Kitayama every chance he gets. Not only does he need the help once he hits eight months and can’t bend over anymore, he’s _bored_. He mails Fujigaya twenty times a day with updates on who’s doing who in Hollywood and everything else he learns from watching foreign cable. Fujigaya’s entire drama cast are convinced that he has a secret girlfriend, which Fujigaya finds great joy in sharing with Kitayama.

One night Kitayama is particularly crabby, even after Fujigaya brings him a homemade cake from his mother and they polish off nearly the entire thing while watching Tamamori and Miyata’s drama. “Does your back hurt again?” he asks gently, used to Kitayama’s discomfort spots by now. “All you have to do is say something, you know. I’ll make it better, whatever it is.”

“What if I want you to have sex with me?” Kitayama barks, and Fujigaya turns to find him visibly shaking. “Are you gonna do that, with as huge and disgusting as I am?”

“You’re not huge and disgusting,” Fujigaya shoots back, almost on impulse. “I thought you said you couldn’t get it up because of the hormones?”

“I can’t,” Kitayama tells him. “I don’t want it that way.”

Fujigaya’s eyes widen. “Oh, that wasn’t a hypothetical question.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Kitayama groans as he stretches out on his back, taking up most of the bed. “It’s _so_ frustrating, this throbbing that won’t go away. I’ve never been able to reach it myself, but the need hasn’t been this strong before. I don’t know if it’s the hormones, or the uncertainty, or the fact that you’re here all the time—”

“Me?” Fujigaya cuts him off, biting back a laugh. “What does it have to do with me?”

“It’s just the entire reason I’m like this at all,” Kitayama says pointedly, and Fujigaya looks down at Kitayama’s swollen abdomen. “I didn’t just pick your name out of a hat that day, you know. God knows I wouldn’t have had to wait nearly as long for anyone else.”

“You want to do it again?” Fujigaya asks, confused. “Won’t it be uncomfortable?”

“What’s uncomfortable is you being so damn close,” Kitayama huffs, his face turning red at the words. “You fucking _breathe_ and I get turned on. It’s so ridiculous. Nobody is gonna fuck me like this. I can’t even leave the house to meet someone. I’m not even supposed to stand _up_.”

“I don’t want anyone else doing it anyway,” Fujigaya says, that protective instinct taking him over again. “Besides, I never said I wouldn’t.”

All of the strain disappears from Kitayama’s face, leaving nothing but hope. “Really?”

“If it’s safe…” Fujigaya trails off, not trusting the way Kitayama nods frantically. “Are you sure we shouldn’t check with the doctor?”

“Women do it all the time in the third trimester,” Kitayama says haughtily. “Meisa said she couldn’t stay off of Jin’s dick from week twenty-eight on.”

Fujigaya scrunches up his nose. “I didn’t need all of that information.”

“You’re really cute when you do that, you know,” Kitayama says with a grin, and Fujigaya wipes it off of his face by pouncing him and pressing their lips together. Kitayama kisses back right away and it’s so much hotter, hot tongues swirling together as Fujigaya’s hands find Kitayama’s skin and he’s not in any way deterred by the extra flesh all over. It helps that Kitayama gasps everywhere Fujigaya touches him, much more sensitive than the last time, but that just means Fujigaya touches him more.

Kitayama’s hands are on him, too, but with a purpose as they pull off his clothes and wrap around his cock before he even has Kitayama out of his shirt. Fujigaya can almost see Kitayama’s anxiety at having his chest exposed until Fujigaya leans down, running his tongue all over the additional flesh before licking at his nipples.

“Taisuke,” Kitayama groans, his legs spreading as Fujigaya falls between them and traces the insides of his thighs with light fingers. “Please don’t tease me. I can’t take it right now.”

“Okay, okay,” Fujigaya relents, leaning up on his knees to grab the lube from the same place it was last time. “You gonna be okay on your back?”

“This is the best way like this, I think,” Kitayama answers, already a little breathless from anticipation. “Taisuke, please, hurry.”

“I most definitely will not hurry,” Fujigaya says firmly, settling between Kitayama’s legs and pressing a kiss to his bulging belly before slipping wet fingers up his thigh. “You’re delicate now.”

Kitayama makes a very unimpressed sound at that, but Fujigaya’s pushing a finger inside him before he can argue. He’s so tight, but his muscles are squeezing desperately, practically pulling the digit inside his body. He hadn’t been kidding about wanting it; Fujigaya can feel just how much, especially when he gets in a second finger and curls them where he remembers Kitayama liking it before.

“Taisuke,” Kitayama exhales out, his body trembling, and Fujigaya eyes the length between Kitayama’s legs that’s just starting to perk at attention. “Right there.”

“I think someone is fighting the hormones,” Fujigaya says, leaning down to kiss the head and hold down Kitayama’s hip when it threatens to buck up into his face. “Come on, wake up for me.”

“Are you seriously talking to it?” Kitayama asks, laughing through his moan. “I would have thought that this is what sex with Tamamori would be like.”

“Hey.” Fujigaya pinches Kitayama’s thigh and grins at the way Kitayama stiffens even more. “Wow, you like everything right now, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” Kitayama stretches his arm around his giant belly to reach Fujigaya’s hair. “Perks to being knocked up.”

“Hmm, I wonder,” Fujigaya says to himself, licking at Kitayama’s cock until the other man is half hard and whimpering. Then he wraps his lips around it and sucks, pleased when Kitayama moans out loud and pushes up into his mouth.

“Taisuke, Taisuke, Taisuke,” Kitayama practically sings, his fingers tightening as he hardens completely and jerks at a third finger. “I’m going to come down your throat if you don’t stop soon.”

If Fujigaya wanted to pull off to speak, he’d tell Kitayama that that’s exactly what he’s going for, but he hopes his actions speak for themselves as he just moves faster. He swallows around the head and flicks his tongue along the underside, just how he likes it himself, and he’s only a little concerned when Kitayama’s breathing grows shallow.

He presses all three fingers against that spot and Kitayama comes, arching as much as he can and pulsing in Fujigaya’s mouth. Fujigaya drinks him down, continuing to lick at him until Kitayama pulls at his hair, then kisses his way up Kitayama’s chest. “You taste sweeter.”

“What makes you think it’s different?” Kitayama asks, breathless. “Maybe I’ve always tasted like that. You wouldn’t know.”

Fujigaya rolls his eyes and presses their mouths together. “Whatever.”

It’s Kitayama who grabs Fujigaya by the cock and slathers it with lube, an undeniable demand to get on with it, except that Fujigaya can’t maneuver around his belly without breaking their kiss.

“Turn onto your side,” Fujigaya suggests, and Kitayama whines until he’s on his side with Fujigaya pressed up behind him, where he props himself up on his elbow so that he can still lean over and reach Kitayama’s mouth. “Ready?”

“I was ready four months ago,” Kitayama grumbles, and Fujigaya lets that go in favor of looping his other arm around Kitayama’s thigh and pushing into him. It’s a bit of an awkward angle but Kitayama seems to love it, jerking with each slow thrust as Fujigaya swallows his moans and gets used to the position.

Kitayama’s body is a bit twisted as Fujigaya finds a rhythm, but the arching helps and Kitayama’s tongue flicking his takes him higher. He loses himself in the combined feelings, emotional as well as physical that both build up with each passing second. Kitayama doesn’t seem interested in coming again but he’s obviously enjoying it, the sharp thrust of Fujigaya deep inside him, just like he wanted.

“Taisuke,” Kitayama gasps, and this time it has nothing to do with physical gratification, especially with the way he covers Fujigaya’s hand that had found its way back to Kitayama’s belly. Their fingers lace together and Fujigaya has never felt so close to another person before in his life, kissing Kitayama as hard as he can as he approaches what will undoubtedly be a mind-blowing release.

“I’m gonna come,” Fujigaya gets out, and Kitayama pulls out of his mouth to get most of Fujigaya’s noises in his ear, tightening even more as Fujigaya lets go inside him. “Ah, Mitsu.”

“Don’t leave,” Kitayama says, with more air than voice, but Fujigaya hears a bit of trembling and wraps both arms around him.

“I won’t,” Fujigaya assures him, sweeping his long hair out of the way to press a kiss to the back of his neck. “I won’t ever leave you.”

It’s not suave by any means, but Kitayama rolls over and presses his face into Fujigaya’s bare shoulder, clinging to him tightly, and Fujigaya decides to ignore the tears that dampen his skin. Must be the hormones.

*

Kitayama’s doctor is a pleasant woman, short and plump with an excitability level that rivals both Nikaido and Senga on sugar. Then again, if Fujigaya were on the edge of a scientific breakthrough, he’d probably be ecstatic too.

“Nice to finally meet you,” Dr. Nakayama greets him, and Fujigaya must look stunned at the implication that Kitayama’s been talking about him because she laughs. “I told him that you probably wanted in on the whole baby thing, but he’s pretty stubborn.”

“Yeah he is,” Fujigaya says affectionately, jerking when fingers dig into his side.

“If you’re going to talk about me like I’m not here, can you at least get on with the ultrasound?” Kitayama asks, leaning back onto his bed-slash-makeshift examining table. “This isn’t exactly the most comfortable thing ever.”

Dr. Nakayama goes through the whole spiel that Fujigaya’s certain is just for his benefit, how the ultrasound works and what to expect on the screen. Not a single word of it prepares him for what he actually sees, though—he’s seen them before in movies and science books, of course, but it’s worlds different to see this one in real time, knowing it’s _his_ and going to be a real little person very, very soon.

“I think we should take her out in a few days,” Dr. Nakayama says, earning both Kitayama and Fujigaya’s attentions. “She’s a little small but, well, so are you.”

“I’m fine,” Kitayama grumbles. “I still have three weeks.”

“It’s mostly for you,” Dr. Nakayama says pointedly. “Your body has already taken on so much. I told you in the beginning, right? If you take these hormones for too long, it could alter your body—”

“And I told you I don’t care,” Kitayama huffs.

“Um,” Fujigaya speaks up, wary about going against the wants of a very pregnant Kitayama who could probably twist his arm off. “What are these hormones, exactly?”

“The same ones we give male-to-female transgenders,” Dr. Nakayama answers smoothly, and Fujigaya’s eyes widen. “We don’t exactly have any research to back this up, but it seemed like the most logical way for Kitayama-kun to house the fetus.”

“And it worked,” Kitayama points out. “What difference is three weeks going to make, anyway? I’m not suddenly going to sprout a vagina.”

Fujigaya makes a face at the mental image while Dr. Nakayama seems unfussed by the language—she’s probably heard much worse from Kitayama over the duration of his pregnancy. “It’s been almost five months, Kitayama-kun,” she says exasperatedly. “I’m already concerned that the damage might be irreversible.”

“Damage…” Fujigaya starts, trailing off when he looks at Kitayama and notices the differences he’d missed before, even when he was seeing _everything_. The extra weight on his chest isn’t just flesh—they’re breasts. His facial features were already feminine, but still softer, and Fujigaya doesn’t think he’s seen Kitayama shave once. Not to mention the difficulty he has with his plumbing.

“It’s _fine_ ,” Kitayama insists, squirming in discomfort. “It’s worth it if she’s healthy.”

“She’ll still be healthy if she’s born soon, right?” Fujigaya asks, staring desperately at the doctor, who nods. “So it’s okay if—”

“What does it matter to you, anyway?” Kitayama cuts him off. “She may be your child, but this isn’t your body. It’s mine. And I want to wait until thirty-eight weeks. End of discussion.”

Fujigaya exchanges a glance with Dr. Nakayama, who just shrugs. There’s really nothing either one of them can do if Kitayama doesn’t consent to it. His life isn’t actually in _danger_ , after all.

Just his dick is. Fujigaya sighs as he considers a future with Kitayama the female. Johnny would probably find some way to make money off of him—either that or make them all do it, creating the first transgender girl group. The thought of Nikaido trying to act like a girl makes Fujigaya laugh until he realizes what _he’d_ be giving up too.

“I was thinking,” he says later, when he’s washing Kitayama’s hair and there’s less likely of a chance that Kitayama will try to drown him. “You know how women go into labor when the baby’s ready? How will you know she’s ready if she doesn’t have a way to tell you?”

“Maybe she’ll claw her way out,” Kitayama answers, then sighs. “I have a c-section scheduled for thirty-eight weeks. I’m _not_ moving it up. I will be fine even if I stay this way.”

“Are you really okay with being Kitayama Hiromi?” Fujigaya asks pointedly, reaching down to grope one of Kitayama’s breasts for emphasis.

Kitayama just moans, arching into the touch. “I could get used to being more sensitive like this, definitely.”

“Don’t you want to get it up again?” Fujigaya goes on, remembering the past couple times they’ve tried to get him off. Kitayama claims that he gets enough pleasure from the penetration, but Fujigaya still feels bad about it.

“I like it better the other way anyway.” Kitayama looks up at him with his soft features and eyes that show more than he’s letting on. “I just want her to be okay, Taisuke. I’ve worked so hard and given up so much just for her, and—”

“But you don’t identify as a female,” Fujigaya argues, returning both hands to Kitayama’s hair while Kitayama whines at the loss of touch. “Don’t you think this is a little fucked up?”

“I’m pregnant,” Kitayama says. “With _your_ child. Everything about this is already fucked up.”

He has a point there, so Fujigaya finally lets it go. He can’t pinpoint what bothers him so much about it anyway; it really does has nothing to do with him, like Kitayama had said. It’s not like they’re anything more than two people who are going to raise a kid together. All they talk about is the baby, their plans for her and what they hope she’s like, though really they’d be fine with anything as long as she’s happy, and the only time Fujigaya even touches him intimately is when Kitayama wants it.

Fujigaya pauses in the middle of the sidewalk on the way to the market to pick up some mochi ice cream—at least Kitayama’s cravings were normal, though that’s about the only thing. People keep walking on either side of him, time still moving even though he’s stone frozen, and all because of a realization that suddenly makes everything so clear.

He’s in love with the bastard.

*

“This is so anti-climatic,” Kitayama mutters as Dr. Nakayama makes an incision in his abdomen, then he promptly falls asleep.

Fujigaya plans on rubbing this into his face for the rest of his life, though he’s incredibly grateful that he doesn’t have to go through the pains of childbirth (his father still claims limited usage of his left hand after Ryosuke). Curiously he watches the procedure, unnerved by the mixture of fluids as Dr. Nakayama carefully cuts Kitayama open enough to reach inside.

It’s disgusting and beautiful at the same time, Fujigaya’s eyes widening at the tiny creature who’s moving sharply like she’s still trying to kick through Kitayama’s belly. Except now she has a face, and skin, and fingers and toes that become more visible as Dr. Nakayama wipes her down, staring in amazement at the umbilical cord that follows the baby out.

“This is such a medical miracle,” Dr. Nakayama mutters. “Do you want to cut it?”

Fujigaya tears his eyes away from the baby when he realizes he’s being spoken to, then nods. “Sure. Is it okay that she’s not crying?”

“Lots of babies don’t cry right away,” the doctor answers. “She’ll be crying for a good number of years, so enjoy the silence while it lasts.”

Accepting that, Fujigaya carefully cuts the umbilical cord and leans over to get a good look at his daughter. She seems to have Fujigaya’s cheekbones and lips, but that’s definitely Kitayama’s nose.

“Hello, precious,” Fujigaya greets her. “Welcome to the world.”

She jerks towards his voice, clearly recognizing him, and Fujigaya’s face hurts from the grin that stretches it as a nurse comes to clean her up properly. Dr. Nakayama’s still tending to Kitayama, examining the insides of his abdomen.

“Doesn’t seem to have any lasting internal damage,” she mutters to herself, then smiles up at Fujigaya. “He’s going to be in a lot of pain when he wakes up. Abdominal muscles are nowhere near as strong as uterine walls. He’s incredibly bruised, but it should go away, though I don’t see a six-pack in his future.”

“That’s low on the list of sacrifices,” Fujigaya tells her.

“There may also be some withdrawal from the hormones,” Dr. Nakayama goes on. “Basically expect him to act strange. His masculine features may return right away, or they may not return at all. That’s the risk he took.”

Fujigaya nods. “I’ll take care of him.”

That has Dr. Nakayama looking up at him. “Please do. Someone has to.”

Before he can ask what she means by that, the nurse returns with a shiny, squirmy baby and Fujigaya’s enamored. The nurse shows Fujigaya how to hold her properly, lifting her head and cradling his arms, and it’s all he can do just to look at her. His little miracle.

“Did you decide what you were going to name her?” the nurse asks gently, gesturing to the stack of paperwork.

“We were going to wait to meet her,” Fujigaya replies apologetically, then glances at the still snoozing Kitayama before returning to his daughter’s face, which seems to brighten up the room even more. “Hikari,” he says suddenly. “Her name is Hikari.”

The nurse smiles at that, and Fujigaya figures that Kitayama can be mad at him later. Except when he finally wakes, doped up on pain medication and barely focusing his eyes on Fujigaya, he just nods at the name and accepts the baby into his arms, smiling just as stupidly as Fujigaya probably is when Hikari curls against him and goes right to sleep.

“Looks like your sleeping talent is hereditary,” Fujigaya jokes.

“My mother said I was the best baby ever,” Kitayama says groggily. “Don’t you have something to say to me?”

Fujigaya blinks. “Thank you?”

“No.” Kitayama starts to shift and cringes. “Come on, Taisuke, it’s basic manners. What do you say after someone makes a lot of effort?”

“Good work?” Fujigaya guesses, and Kitayama smiles proudly. “I love you.”

His blood runs cold, the words just slipping out, and he’s desperately trying to think of a way to backpedal when Kitayama’s face falls and his eyes seem to focus more. “Even if I’m halfway female?”

Fujigaya snorts. “Less work for me, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so.” Kitayama plays with Hikari’s small tufts of hair before returning his eyes to Fujigaya. “It was inevitable, huh?”

“What was?”

“You and me,” Kitayama answers. “Us.”

“You started it,” Fujigaya reminds him. “You’re the one who propositioned me out of nowhere—”

“And look what we got out of it,” Kitayama says pointedly, gesturing down to the sleeping newborn on his chest. “You are _welcome_.”

Instead of responding, Fujigaya leans closer, nearly hovering over the bed as he presses a light kiss to Hikari’s forehead, then to Kitayama’s lips. He means it to be quick, but his mouth lingers and Kitayama tilts his head, accepting the kiss that turns deeper and more proper with each brush of their lips.

“Not in front of the baby!” someone mocks, and Fujigaya narrows his eyes as he pulls away to find Nikaido grinning at them along with the other members.

“Oh, look at her,” Yokoo coos, shoving past the younger four to fall at Kitayama’s other side. “She’s beautiful. What’s her name?”

“Hikari,” Kitayama answers. “This fool named her after his dumb song while I was knocked out.”

“She lights up the world,” Fujigaya huffs. “Look at her face and tell me she’s not a Hikari.”

“Relax,” Kitayama tells him, turning his head to nudge at Fujigaya’s shoulder and pout up at him. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

“You two are almost as cute as she is,” Miyata comments with a smile that’s only a little devious.

Fujigaya rolls his eyes. “Oh, go write fanfiction about it.”

“In my defense, I’m on drugs,” Kitayama informs them. “I don’t know what his excuse is.”

“Must be your boobs,” Fujigaya teases, and Kitayama rolls his eyes.

“Can I hold her?” Yokoo asks, and Kitayama starts to lean up before Fujigaya stops him.

“Trust me, you don’t want to move.” He gently takes Hikari from Kitayama and hands her to Yokoo, confident that his friend knows how to hold her properly. “I’ve seen your insides and they’re not pretty.”

“That sounds equally erotic and disturbing,” Kitayama tells him, “but I won’t pass up the chance for you to keep doing everything for me.”

“You say that like I was going to stop.” Fujigaya frowns. “But now there’s a baby…”

“My mom is coming to stay with us for a while, don’t worry.” Kitayama turns his head a little and nudges at Fujigaya’s hand that instantly strokes his hair. “We have all of these guys to help, too.”

Nikaido snorts, but Senga nods eagerly and Tamamori turns pale. Miyata’s peering over Yokoo’s shoulder, making faces at Hikari who just looks annoyed, at least until Yokoo smiles and she lets out a soft noise at his abnormally long teeth.

“We’ll make it work,” Fujigaya realizes out loud, and when he doesn’t get a response, he looks down to find Kitayama asleep again.

*

The entire year of Kisumai’s hiatus becomes a blessing when Kitayama can’t even walk on his own until the end of summer. Hikari had done a number to his abdomen, which was in a slow healing process that made Kitayama impatient every time he looked at himself in the mirror.

“Everything else is toning up except for this!” he exclaims, grabbing his waist.

“Welcome to the world of every woman ever,” his mother chides him, and Kitayama just rolls his eyes. “Taisuke doesn’t seem to mind, anyway.”

Fujigaya takes that as his cue to walk up behind Kitayama and wrap his arms around his middle, squishing the extra flesh that in no way compares to when he’d been pregnant. “The more to love,” he teases him.

“Piss off,” Kitayama grumbles, but Fujigaya kisses his cheek before letting go to join Kita-mama at the changing station. “It doesn’t matter what you think when the fangirls are calling me fat.”

“They call Jin fat and his album just hit number one in three countries,” Fujigaya points out, grinning at Hikari as she looks unimpressed with the cute flower dress Kita-mama had dressed her in. “It’s only going to get worse since Meisa-san is expecting again.”

“Clearly he didn’t learn his lesson the first time.” Kitayama sighs.

Fujigaya rolls his eyes. “Don’t you think maybe they wanted another baby? Theia-chan is lonely all by herself.”

That has Kitayama’s eyebrows rising. “What are you implying?”

His mother laughs at that. “You two are totally married right now.”

They both wrinkle their noses at her, and Hikari chooses that moment to let out a sharp cheer, making Fujigaya laugh as he picks her up. “Are you taking Grandma’s side?”

“Of course,” Kita-mama answers. “Us Kitayama women, we can see the obvious pretty well.”

Later, when Fujigaya has to physically stop Kitayama from doing sit-ups, he lets his curiosity get the best of him. “Do you think we should get married?”

Kitayama groans when he can’t move his torso with Fujigaya sitting on his arm, then lifts his legs instead. “Why? It won’t be legal here.”

“I don’t know, maybe because we love each other?”

Kitayama hrmphs at that. “The girly hormones have worn off, you know. I’m not all schmoopy about it anymore.”

Fujigaya rolls over and pins him down completely, staring into his eyes. “How do you feel about me, then?”

“You’re a pain in my ass,” Kitayama says firmly, “but you’re good to me, and our daughter, so I guess I still like you a little bit.”

Grinning, Fujigaya leans down to kiss him, stretching out along Kitayama’s body that’s much smaller than he’s used to. Kitayama wraps arms around him and kisses back, right there on the living room floor while Hikari naps in her crib across the room, and Kitayama’s legs automatically fall open when Fujigaya’s hands run down his sides.

“Ah!” Kitayama exclaims suddenly, and Fujigaya leans up on his elbows as he stares down in concern, worried he might have aggravated Kitayama’s bruised abdomen. Except that Kitayama isn’t making a pained face, not at all, and now Fujigaya’s just confused.

“What? What is it?”

In response, Kitayama grabs Fujigaya’s hand and puts it between his legs. Fujigaya’s eyes widen at the hard mass that swells from his touch, his expression relaxing when he squeezes and Kitayama lets out a beautiful moan.

“Long time no see,” Fujigaya says, and Kitayama shoves at him.

“Seriously, if you’re going to talk to it, I’ll go take care of it myself.”

“Only if I can watch,” Fujigaya tells him, and that takes Kitayama off guard enough to let Fujigaya back into his mouth, hands rushing to unfasten Kitayama’s pants. “Damn, I don’t know what to do with this now that it actually works.”

“Keep being a smartass and I’ll show you what to do with it,” Kitayama threatens, his voice deeper than Fujigaya’s heard in awhile. “Right in your ass.”

Fujigaya’s nerves singe at the thought. “Okay.”

“Really?” Kitayama rolls his hips up into Fujigaya’s touch, his own hands dropping to Fujigaya’s waist. “You like it that way?”

“Sometimes,” Fujigaya answers, slowly pushing Kitayama’s shirt up over his head. His pectorals are back to normal, for the most part, though one trail of Fujigaya’s fingers over his nipples has him gasping. It seems that he kept the sensitivity there after all. “If it’s with you, any way is fine.”

“You’re so romantic,” Kitayama says sarcastically, but then he’s pulling at Fujigaya’s clothes. “Are we actually going to do it on the floor?”

“If the bed makes noise, she might wake up.” Fujigaya grabs the lube from his pants before he shucks them and straddles Kitayama’s waist.

“You think the _floor_ is going to be any quieter?” Kitayama asks, and Fujigaya just shoves the lube pointedly into his palm before fusing their mouths together. Kitayama presumably lets it go and gets to work, messing with the tube before wet fingers poke between Fujigaya’s legs, making them spread more.

“Mitsu,” Fujigaya gasps between kisses, then moans as Kitayama pushes a finger inside him. Already it feels so much different than the few times he’s done it like this before, though that’s probably because his heart is involved now. It’s why he keeps kissing Kitayama anyway, wanting Kitayama’s hands all over him, inside and out. It’s also why Kitayama’s moans make him want more, to thumb the head of Kitayama’s cock and earn more of them, to see if he’ll get louder once he’s inside.

“Mm, you open up so nicely for me,” Kitayama purrs beneath him, slipping in another finger and curling them together. “Show me where you like it.”

Fujigaya shifts a bit, leaning forward enough to bury his face in Kitayama’s neck, then Kitayama hits something that sends surges of pleasure coursing throughout his entire body. “Oh, right there.”

“Fuck,” Kitayama hisses, angling his hand so that he can snap his wrist faster than Fujigaya can bounce back. “Damn, Taisuke, you really like this.”

“Good thing you got your dick back,” Fujigaya says, and Kitayama jabs him extra roughly, both of them moaning as a third finger joins the other two. “Mitsu, I want you.”

“Me too,” Kitayama replies, pulling his fingers from Fujigaya and lubing his own cock. “If you insist on doing it like this, you better ride well.”

“Please, I can ride circles around you.” Fujigaya rolls his eyes as he hovers over Kitayama’s lap, slowly sinking down on the length that Kitayama holds up for him. “Oh. Oh, Mitsu.”

“Shh,” Kitayama says, and Fujigaya winces at how loud he’d just been. “Don’t wake the baby.”

Fujigaya’s ready to say to hell with the baby, but then they’ll have to _stop_ and that’s just not happening. So he bites his lip and rolls his hips, dirtier than he’d ever done on stage, taking Kitayama so deep inside him over and over. He can tell how much Kitayama likes it by the nails that claw at his thighs, the little thrusts of his own hips that he really shouldn’t be giving as it strains his abs, the low gasps of his first name. Kitayama’s eyes are barely open, but Fujigaya can feel them on him, another wave of arousal crashing over him at the way Kitayama’s looking at him as he rides.

“Fuck, you’re good at this,” Kitayama murmurs, so low Fujigaya can barely hear him.

“Told you I was.” He gives a few sharp rocks for good measure, pulling a deep groan from Kitayama as the man beneath him starts to shudder. “You close?”

“Just…go slower,” Kitayama hisses out, and Fujigaya instantly cuts his speed in half. “Yeah, that’s good.”

“Are you hurting?” Fujigaya asks, as concerned as he can manage with how turned on he is. The bruises on Kitayama’s abdomen had finally faded away, but there was still lingering pain. Fujigaya’s hands automatically go to the area, tracing the small c-section scar before gently rubbing the surrounding skin, which trembles under his touch.

“No, but that feels nice.” Kitayama slides his hands up Fujigaya’s sweaty back and guides him down, pushing his damp hair out of his face. “Can you still do it like this?”

Fujigaya wants to answer that he can do it any way Kitayama wants it, but he’s already pulled into Kitayama’s mouth by some force he can’t resist. Not that he would want to, he thinks as he tastes Kitayama’s lips that don’t let him in right away. It takes some effort to rock back and forth from this angle and kiss properly, but Fujigaya manages it, little gasps pressing against Kitayama’s lips as Kitayama hits him deeper this way.

“Taisuke,” Kitayama gasps between kisses, then drops a hand between them to wrap around Fujigaya’s cock. “Come for me. I wanna feel it.”

He thumbs the head and Fujigaya fuses their mouths together, muffling his moans before his hips jerk more sharply. For all his talk about going slow, he’s sure pulling Fujigaya off fast enough, squeezing the shaft and twisting his wrist while his thumb presses into all of the places that drive Fujigaya crazy.

“I’m gonna…” Fujigaya gasps out, and Kitayama just nods as he keeps going. “ _Mitsu_.”

Fujigaya spills over Kitayama’s hand and Kitayama groans into his mouth, grabbing him firmly by the hips as he thrusts up a couple times, then stills. Fujigaya’s skin tingles everywhere as he feels Kitayama come inside him, his mind not completely intact, but he’s coherent enough to trail fingers along Kitayama’s abdomen that keeps quivering.

They kiss lazily, making the most of the time they have like this before Hikari wakes up, and Fujigaya shudders at the faint “I love you” Kitayama breathes against his lips. Even if he only says it like this, it makes everything else worth it.

Then Fujigaya moves to get up and cringes at the pain on his knees. “Fucking rugburn.”

“You’re the one who wanted to do it on the floor,” Kitayama tells him, mocking like he hadn’t just been confessing his love thirty seconds ago, and Fujigaya wouldn’t have him any other way.

*

There’s something to be said about absence making the heart grow fonder, but Fujigaya wouldn’t know anything about that since he leases a new, bigger apartment with Kitayama when his mother informs him that she is not a laundromat at the beginning of winter. It’s the fans who welcome Kitayama back like he was a Kpop idol returning from military service, screaming and crying at his surprise appearance at Countdown, exactly one year after his departure had been announced.

The elaborate story that Johnny cooked up for Kitayama to tell the press is amusing in its validity, minus a few key details. Kitayama had gotten a girl pregnant, an old family friend he’d been dating against the rules, and he had insisted on taking the time off to tend to her. She had been planning on terminating it until he said he would raise it alone, which naturally earns the sympathy of every female in the country.

Even if anyone was skeptical about the details, they likely forgot all about it once they saw Kitayama Hikari’s adorable face. Johnny had wanted to give her a different name for publicity purposes, to avoid any ties to Fujigaya’s song, but Fujigaya wasn’t being that careful about entering and leaving their home anyway and it didn’t take long for someone to notice.

“Taisuke just loves babies,” Kitayama says with a straight face when they finally address the situation in an interview. “I couldn’t keep him away, and besides, I’m not going to turn down the help.”

Understatement of the year, Fujigaya wants to interject, but he just shrugs and puts on an indifferent face. At least nobody has publicly pointed out how much Hikari looks like him yet. They wouldn’t believe the truth anyway. Kitayama’s name and identifying features were kept confidential in Dr. Nakayama’s reports, and the results won’t even be recorded until after years and years of research and experiments.

Maybe by then it will be okay for them not to hide their relationship, at least. Fujigaya hates that he has to lie and say that they’re just colleagues, that they have separate bedrooms, that they don’t even do anything together other than care for Hikari. He can’t keep the concern from his eyes when they’re live, though, because he still worries about Kitayama performing with his long-standing injuries, but Kitayama’s really good at making fun of him and Miyata says that their fanfiction has exploded in quantity because of it.

“If only they knew we were basically living one of their ridiculous stories,” Kitayama jokes as he feeds their now nine-month-old daughter on an actual living room couch.

“How do those things usually end, anyway?” Fujigaya asks, looking to Miyata because he would know. “What are we supposed to do now?”

Miyata shrugs. “No idea. They usually end after the baby is born.”

Kitayama makes an unimpressed noise. “That’s where the story begins!”

“Maybe Shige should write that next,” Yokoo speaks up, and they all laugh.

“I guess we’ll just have to figure it out ourselves,” Fujigaya says, slumping onto Kitayama’s shoulder and burying his face into Hikari’s thick, dark hair. “We could get married.”

“You’ve been saying that for six months, yet I haven’t seen a ring,” Kitayama replies.

Fujigaya pokes him in the side. “Do you want a ring?”

“No,” Kitayama huffs, switching the baby to his other arm so that she kicks Fujigaya in the chin. “I’m not a girl.”

“Could have fooled me,” Fujigaya teases, and this time he gets Kitayama’s elbow in his ribs, which was probably the whole reason of switching sides to begin with. “Ow! That hurt.”

Kitayama scoffs. “You’re not allowed to complain about pain until you’ve carried a kicking fetus in your abdomen for nine months. I _still_ can’t do very many crunches.”

“Whose fault was that?” Fujigaya asks, leaning over to play with Hikari’s little fingers. “You’re the one who found me so irresistible that you had to have me. I’ll take responsibility for this precious one, but the fact that we hooked up in the first place is all you.”

“Momentary lapse in judgement,” Kitayama says as he turns his head to poke his nose into Fujigaya’s forehead. Fujigaya leans up and they kiss, quick and light, but it leaves a lingering tingle on Fujigaya’s lips that spreads down his arms.

“You two are the worst couple ever,” Tamamori comments, wrinkling his nose.

“Or the best,” Fujigaya and Kitayama reply in unison, making Tamamori look even more disturbed.

“Fine,” Kitayama says later, after Hikari’s down for a nap and they’ve thrown back a couple beers, now alone. “I’ll marry your dumb ass.”

“What the hell kind of proposal is that?” Fujigaya asks, shoving him for good measure (but gently). “I’m supposed to be the one to ask, anyway.”

Kitayama narrows his eyes. “If you get down on one knee, I’m kicking you in the face.”

“That’s the only way you could reach it, shorty.”

“I want a ring,” Kitayama finally blurts out. “A simple one. One that matches yours.”

Fujigaya smiles and pulls him close. “I can do that.”

They sneak away to their bedroom, where bickering fades into moans and jabs become gentle caresses, and Fujigaya’s once again grateful for momentary lapses in judgement.

*

“Oh, this explains everything,” Ryosuke says as he looks from Hikari to Kitayama’s mom and back. “It’s really your baby, right? Aren’t you Kitayama-kun’s older sister?”

He actually looks surprised when Fujigaya slaps him upside the head, while Kita-mama just laughs. “Aren’t you the sweetest thing?”

Ryosuke looks enamored, and Fujigaya makes a mental note to have Yuusuke talk to their youngest brother about chasing cougars as he helps Kitayama in the kitchen. ‘Helping’ means picking up the heavy dishes and moving them around, which is fine with him. The one time Fujigaya had tried to cook, on Kitayama’s thirtieth birthday, he’d nearly set their new kitchen on fire.

They had invited both of their families over for Christmas, and while Fujigaya’s mom was old friends with Kitayama’s, his brothers had not yet made her acquaintance. For good reason, he mentally adds as he keeps an eye on Ryosuke.

Hikari’s barely walking, but she can crawl up a storm and even with six able-bodied adults (plus Kitayama who helpfully points out where she is) they can’t keep her from getting into everything. Their apartment has long since been baby-proofed, but that didn’t carry over to things like Grandma’s purse and tablecloths. Having two grandmas means that Hikari is doubly fussed over, though, which she seems to love.

It only takes her a couple hours to tire herself out, leading Fujigaya to put her down for a nap before dinner is even ready. He has to stay with her until she falls asleep or she’ll pitch a fit, so Fujigaya sits in the rocking chair in her bedroom and sings her namesake song to her until she stops fighting sleep and her long eyelashes finally flutter shut.

He carefully puts her in her crib, then turns to find Kitayama standing in the doorway and nearly jumps out of his skin. “You scared me,” he whispers, but Kitayama’s eyes are determined and Fujigaya’s even more surprised when Kitayama grabs him by the wrist and wraps both arms around him, holding him tightly. “Everything okay? Our moms aren’t planning our wedding, are they?”

Kitayama snorts just lightly enough to be heard, though Fujigaya feels it against his chest. “Can’t I just hug you without there being something wrong? We _are_ getting married, you know. I’m supposed to fall in love with you all over again when I see you singing to our daughter.”

“Were you ever in love with me before?” Fujigaya asks seriously, and Kitayama punches him gently in the side. “You never say stuff like that to me. I’ve gotten used to it.”

“Well, maybe I should start,” Kitayama grumbles, sounding just as put out about it as he does firm, and Fujigaya wonders which one of their mothers gave him a lecture on affection. “And it’s true, anyway.”

“I love you, too,” Fujigaya whispers, stealing a breathtaking kiss before returning to both of their families, now combined into one.

*

Hikari is celebrating her second birthday when Kitayama gets sick. They’re in the middle of a world tour in Shanghai, which doesn’t leave much in the way of medical attention—at least the medical attention they think Kitayama might need.

“If I end up in the tabloids because of this, I’m blaming you,” Yokoo says as he tosses a pregnancy test at them.

“You know the most Chinese next to Mitsu,” Fujigaya tells him, stroking the cloth on Kitayama’s forehead. “Nikaido would have brought us back feminine itch cream or something.”

Kitayama makes a face as he snatches the box. “Don’t make me throw up again.”

It’s the longest ten minutes of their lives, and Kitayama nearly passes out when only one blue line shows up instead of two. “Thank fuck,” he sighs out. “I would have made you carry it this time.”

Fujigaya just snorts and changes the cloth. “I bet you just caught what Hikki had last week.”

His tone comes out a little short and Kitayama doesn’t respond, at least until a weak hand grabs onto Fujigaya’s wrist. “Do you want another one?”

“Not if it’s going to hurt you,” Fujigaya tells him firmly, “and I don’t think we can adopt without attracting a lot of attention. She’s enough, isn’t she?”

Kitayama grins despite the green tint quickly appearing on his face. “Yeah, she is.”

Fujigaya just lifts up the bucket for Kitayama to vomit into, rubbing his back the whole time. It’s what a good husband does, anyway, a slow smile spreading across Fujigaya’s face as Kitayama reaches up to cover Fujigaya’s left hand with his and their silver wedding bands clink together.

They’re far from a picture perfect family; for their Christmas card last year, all three of them had pigtails because Hikari wouldn’t smile unless they _matched_. Given that both Fujigaya and Kitayama have spent most of their lives posing for cameras, a little variation from the norm is nice.

Everyone on tour loves having little Hikari around, even if she’s running all over the place and getting into everyone’s way all the time. She made her stage debut in London, where the staff-san decided to surprise Kitayama during an emcee, except that Hikari ran straight for Fujigaya and Miyata joked that Kitayama’s costume must have been too scary.

She doesn’t quite understand the concept of Daddy and Papa yet, but they’re just happy she talks at all. When she calls Fujigaya “Papa” in public, Fujigaya laughs it off and Kitayama pretends to be mad. They both know that this will only work for so long, hoping that Hikari is smart enough to keep their family secrets at home when she gets older.

This isn’t how Fujigaya envisioned his future, married to a man he’s worked with for half of his life, with whom he’s managed to miraculously create a beautiful baby girl whose only abnormality is that she’s a little on the small side. He’s still a famous idol, internationally now, and he loves his fans almost as much as he loves his daughter. And his husband, he supposes, though sometimes Fujigaya just wants to strangle him. Apparently that’s normal, according to Fujigaya’s parents, so they must be doing it right.

“I hate everything,” Kitayama whines as he flops onto his side, groaning in agony and breaking out into a fresh wave of sweat. Their fingers stay locked, though, rings reflecting the light from the nearby lamp right into Fujigaya’s eye.

It nearly blinds him, but all he does is smile.


End file.
